Free Score (Skin in the Game Book 1) by Christine Bell Page A

I observed, still not meeting his eyes as I tried not to let my mind drift back to the parts of him that had been stiff just a few minutes earlier. God, he’d felt so good…
    “What do you do when you’re on the field, and it’s like, zero degrees out?”
    “It never bothers me then. It’s like adrenaline, I guess. It kind of makes everything else fade to the background but that excitement. Sort of like I felt earlier.”
    I couldn’t help but look at him, but only for a second. Was he talking about our kiss? Maybe, but what difference did it make? I’d felt his erection against my stomach. His body had reacted to me because that’s what guy bodies do. So what if I got his blood pumping?
    My body obviously thought it was a big deal, though, because even though it was cold as ass outside, I started to blush again. And then I started thinking about his lips again…
    Shit.
    By then we were at the steps to Kappa, thank god. I wasn’t sure what I was capable of in this unfamiliar state. I said, “Thanks.”
    “Therapy, Monday night? Seven?”
    I nodded and climbed up the stairs holding the railing so I wouldn’t do a repeat performance of the day I’d met him. That would be grounds for leaving the country and moving to Mexico.
    When I closed the door, I ran upstairs and peered out my bedroom window, but he’d already gone.
    I stared outside for a long moment until my phone buzzed with a text from Flora checking to make sure I got home okay. I turned away from the window with a sigh and tapped out a quick reply. Then, I got dressed for bed and climbed beneath the covers and snapped off the light.
    This was it. I was going to sleep and putting an end to the oddest, most twisting, turning day of my life. I refused to spend my whole night rehashing every second I’d spent with Callum Samskevitch. It was an exercise in futility. Putting it all out of my head was the best course of action. And, after a good night’s sleep, everything would be back to normal.
    But as I forced myself to close my eyes, I had the sinking feeling that normal just wasn’t going to be enough anymore.

8
    Cal
    I woke up on Monday with a pounding headache despite the fact that I hadn’t had a thing to drink since Saturday night.
    After I’d left Bee at her house, I couldn’t make myself go back to the party. It seemed so pointless. So I’d gone back to my apartment and had spent most of the night lying awake, looking up at the ceiling.
    I should’ve kissed her again. I’d wanted to. Fuck, seeing her dancing like that, lips parted, the soft, full curves of her hips moving in slow circles to the rhythm of the music…all I wanted to do was grab her and kiss her senseless, right there. Screw who saw.
    How could I have ever thought she was plain, before? No question about it. Bee Mitchell was damn sexy.
    Which explained the dreams.
    Saturday night, Sunday night, same deal. Bee buzzed in my head all night long. Dancing in those sexy circles around me. I could still taste her, this uniquely Bee taste that reminded me of summer and sunshine. I could feel her tits pressed against me through the fabric of her shirt, her nipples hard as pebbles, her hands running up and down my chest.
    And the second I opened my eyes this morning, two shitty things happened.
    I realized it was just a dream, and I had the headache from hell after two horrible nights of sleep.
    Which was why I headed to the locker room an hour early. I had to work out some of the frustration that was playing on my nerves. I had to find my center, my zen.
    I knew I’d be working my legs with her, so I decided to do chest and back. On my third set of bench presses, though, I thought of the way Bee had looked at me, all sexy with her hair falling in her face as she danced, and my cock pulsed. I knew the second she came into the room, it would fight to make its presence known to her. And the second she touched me? I’d be a goner.
    Then Bee Mitchell would likely run away